


I'm sorry, L'manburg

by treehousq



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Feels, Author Projecting onto Wilbur Soot, Destruction, Destruction of L'Manberg | L'Manburg on Dream Team SMP (Video Blogging RPF), Feels, Gen, I'm Bad At Tagging, Implied/Referenced Suicide, L'Manberg Crater on Dream Team SMP (Video Blogging RPF), Pre-Manberg-Pogtopia War on Dream Team SMP (Video Blogging RPF), Sad Ending, Sad Wilbur Soot, Short One Shot, Singing, Swearing, Wilbur Soot Angst, Wilbur Soot Needs a Hug, Wilbur Soot is Not Insane, Wilbur Soot is Not Okay, Working Out My Feelings Through Fic, i think my manic mood swings really shine through wilbur in this lmao, wilbur isn't okay and tbh neither am i
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-14 06:22:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29912745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/treehousq/pseuds/treehousq
Summary: Wilbur set down his guitar next to him, letting the wooden body scrape carelessly across the rough texture of the stone ground. He pushed himself to his feet and made his way to a small, simple wooden button installed within the stone wall of the tiny room. He was more than aware and conscious of what he was doing and what was going to happen....Or, Wilbur sings one last song to L'manberg.
Relationships: None
Kudos: 5





	I'm sorry, L'manburg

L'manberg looked different, Wilbur would say. With tall buildings of medieval architecture (a change he was sure was Tubbo's idea to some extent) that looked much cosier than his dirt shack back in Pogtopia and an air of familial love– it reminded him of watching how much your youngling has grown while off on their own. A sense of pride and joy, a feeling so soft and tender that cradles your heart and makes it warm and cosy.

Soft brown eyes drifted over the expanse of the thriving nation, drinking in the overwhelmingly lovely colours and features. Features that dressed up the nation into the prospective land it was always destined to be.

As Wilbur held his guitar and began strumming the first chords, he let out a pensive breath he was unaware he had been holding.

" _I figured out what can move me.._ " Wilbur glance down as he swiped his thumb across the strings, a comforting habit. " _It's trains and hugs, planes and sushi._ "

Memories of sitting on the floating train tracks and staring at the sunset with Tommy rushed to his head, their warm and inviting aura luring him down memory lane, taking his hand in theirs and guiding him. He and Tommy always snuck into L'manberg after their exile, especially in the beginning. Call it a need to go against the system or direct authority that had screwed them over– they did it because it was fun and rewarding.

Wilbur can remember how nice the sun felt washing over his face as it climbed slowly over the horizon. He remembers fondly how it had been one of the only mornings on record where Tommy had been quiet. The two of them sat on the stone next to the train tracks, legs crossed and bodies propped against each other as they let old memories envelop them in comforting security– it was home. It finally felt like home again.

A mental apology ran through Wilbur's head, directed at Tommy. He wishes he would've had something to leave behind for everyone.

For those who still cared, that is.

Wilbur didn't want to think about it.

" _And I'm sorry.. But Boris– I'm leaving..._ "

He remembered Tommy crying and asking Wilbur to throw out the TNT. Tubbo looking at him with a look of such raw fright as he described his plan to tear down what used to be L'manberg. Philza desperately trying to talk him out of his plan in a voice laced with sympathy. Fundy, his own son, telling him he didn't recognise him anymore, that he'd gone down a path he didn't care to save him from at this point. _His own son–_

" _I'm not good for anyone here._ "

It fucking ripped him up on the inside as he knew no matter what anyone said or did– he'd go through with it nonetheless. Disregarding what everyone had been telling him and going through with it anyway.

It tore his loved ones apart.

Wilbur wondered if they knew that it tore him apart too.

Tear after tear slowly slipped down his scarred and blemished cheeks as he stared blankly at the ground.

" _I can't believe that I'm leaving."_

It sank in. It started seeping in a while back when he first got the courage to speak to Dream about the TNT, but _now-_ It was.. it was clicking into place.

"I can't believe that I'm leaving..." His voice trembled along with his fingertips against the rough strings of his guitar, suddenly feeling the need to grip the neck of the instrument for stability despite him sitting on the cold stone ground. He felt as if he would fall through the world.

He struggled to play the chords correctly, he was sure they were misplaced but he couldn't focus, his vision blurred with the hot tears drowning his sight as he muttered the next lyric. " _I don't think I want to leave you,_ "

Wilbur's head shot up, landing on L'manberg once again– or rather, the mess of blurry splotches of green and browns and the occasional pop of red and blue that he knew was once his great symphony. " _I don't think I want to leave you, here alone..._ " His chest constricted painfully, his heart hurt– it hurt too much acknowledging it all. Memories of Schlatt and how he ripped away Wilbur's nation away from him– tore it down and built big, ugly walls to keep him out. It made the blood rushing through Wilbur's ears boil.

" _But they'll knock down the pubs before helping you, they'll burn down your towers before helping you, they'll charge for your healthcare before helping you._ "

Schlatt had rubbed it in Wilbur's face when he had been caught sneaking inside the nation's walls, remarking to an enraged Wilbur "I won that election square and fair, Will, and until those pathetic dipshits decide to stand up against me and vote me out, I'm gonna continue running _my_ country however the fuck I want."

Even after being told this, Tommy and Tubbo and the others- they didn't side with Wilbur. They still wanted to take L'manberg back, but they didn't understand that the only way to rid the nation of the evil nature it had been tainted with was to get rid of it all and just start over. They sided against Wilbur in that sense. They left him to his own devices, abandoning him in his quest to reclaim his land.

" _They'll let you jump under trains before helping you._ "

It wasn't until the notes started sounding strained that Wilbur realised he had been throttling the neck of the instrument, muting the tunes and fucking it up. _Fucking it up again and again like always_. He closed his eyes and let out an irritated breath as he relaxed his grip.

" _And even though I'm finished, I'm not quite done with it. No matter how far I run south, I'm always there._ "

Wilbur's heart belonged in L'manberg, and it always would. That's where his entire being resided, it always had and long after his mortal life it would continue to reside there. His glorious unfinished symphony was his everything.

" _My lovers, my colleagues, my best friends and enemies.._ "

Familiar face after face ran through his mind as he sang the lyrics, each one losing more sentiment as each face passed through, until eventually they were nothing more than geometrical shapes on a simple frame. Nothing more.

Wilbur set down his guitar next to him, letting the wooden body scrape carelessly across the rough texture of the stone ground. He pushed himself to his feet and made his way to a small, simple wooden button installed within the stone wall of the tiny room. He was more than aware and conscious of what he was doing and what was going to happen.

Hardened brown eyes lingered on each detail and groove of the light-coloured wood button, fingers running over it and caressing each indent carefully. Wilbur, keeping his fingers gently resting on the button, turned back to look out of the opening of the room, taking one more glance at his L'manberg. Softly, nearly inaudible, he sang the last lyric of his apology to L'manberg, to his friends and families and loved ones.

" _I don't think I want to leave you.._ "

Wilbur smiled as he closed his eyes, and then pressed the button.

He felt peace when the sound of fuses being lit reached his ears.


End file.
